To Know the Past
by Eomer'sFaelwen
Summary: As Hook and Emma scour the jungles of Neverland in search of Henry, Hook tells Emma a story to pass the time. The story of how he became Captain.


The jungles of Neverland were thick and dense. There were no pathways to follow through the treacherous terrain, leaving rough hikes through the choking foliage as the only option. If you had a good sense of direction, and could navigate, you stood a small chance of finding your way. Or, if you had the ability to use magic, that could serve its purpose and guide you where you needed to go. But Hook had never trusted magic, which was why he had chosen the Swan girl as his companion.

They had been on the island for much too long. The subtle magic that the very earth of Neverland held was beginning to work its way into their minds. Getting off the island as soon as possible was of paramount importance, but they had yet to find the boy. They had split their party into three groups in a last ditch attempt to find Emma's son; Gold with Mary-Margaret, David with Regina, and Emma with him. It had taken many hours of fighting to come up with the arrangement, which was by no means ideal, but they had set off at midday yesterday, each pair agreeing to turn back and follow the downhill slope of the island to the beach if they had not found the boy in three days time.

"You're awfully quiet darling," he observed, "Penny for your thoughts?"

"I just. Want to find. My son." She said wearily, her panting from climbing up the steep hill punctuating her words.

Hook sighed, wishing once more that he could do something more for her. The best he had to give her still was not enough, and it frustrated him to no end. "I'm sorry, love," he replied. "We'll find him. I promised you we would, and a pirate never breaks his word."

"Interestingly enough, pirates have never been the most trustworthy of characters," she said wryly.

"Well it might surprise you to learn that we pirates live by a certain moral compass. It may not be the one you've been raised with but we do have some standards. A code, if you will."

"A code," she replied, skepticism coloring her voice, "what sort of code?"

"Well you know, 'No man gets left behind. Don't put your word to a promise you can't keep. Always do what's best for the crew.' things like that," he finished, ticking each off with his fingers as he went along and giving a small shrug.

"Really? No 'rape, kill, pillage, and burn and every man for himself?"

He wheeled around, stopping her short with the suddenness of his movement. His face glowered, inched from her own, wounded that she would imply that he was capable of such things. "First of all, any man who would leave another behind is a coward who would never serve amongst my men. Secondly, pirates only kill when it is a necessity. I have never taken the life of an innocent, and any man who has done so whilst sailing under my command has been tossed overboard and given to the mermaids. And lastly, any man who rapes a woman, whether on my crew or not, gets the most painful death you can possibly imagine. So no, Swan, that isn't part of my code."

His breathing came heavily; as if he were holding himself back from doing something he would regret later. He saw the remorse in her eyes, and his expression softened somewhat as he realized that she had made the comment offhand, not truly meaning her words. And yet, he had always found that there was a grain of truth behind every word spoken.

She broke his gaze, staring down at the ground as a heated blush crept up her face. "I'm sorry," she said remorsefully, "I know you would never do any of those things. I'm sorry..."

He took a step backward, his posture and gaze softening further as he read the regret clearly upon her face. "Well," he muttered, a bitter edge still in his tone, "I never said I haven't plundered and pillaged, so you're not entirely wrong."

A half smile lifted her lips at the edges, not entirely chasing away the sadness that lingered behind her eyes. He returned the gesture, enough to let her know that she was forgiven, and turned to continue their trek up the hillside.

"I didn't ask for this you know," he said just loud enough for her to hear him, "I was born into this life, just as you were born into your role as the savior. I never really had a choice. It was either this, or a life lived in poverty. Not much of a choice really, but I've done the best that I can."

After a slight pause, Emma's hesitant question came from behind him, "How...how old were you when you became a pirate?"

He chuckled, pondering how exactly to answer her question, "Well darling, like I said I was sort of born into it. Pirate's in my blood whether I want it or not. My father was a pirate, or so I came to learn. He left my mother after getting her with child, and came back for me when I was eleven years old. Old enough to sail the seas by his side. He wooed me just as he had wooed my mother I suppose, with talk of adventures and the seven seas. But he was a fugitive, and the night before we were to set sail together he fled, leaving me standing alone on the docks to wait."

"But you still became a pirate," Emma pushed, "How?"

"My father had a first mate," he conceded, "by the name of Davey Jones."

"Wait. _The_ Davey Jones? The one with the locker?"

"He was famous in your world then too was he?" Killian asked, somewhat amused, "Though I don't know what you mean about the locker."

"Never mind," Emma said quickly, "So he took you in?"

"Yes I suppose he did. He found me there on the docks waiting for my father...broke the news to me, and told me that I could still come aboard if I agreed to follow his command. I agreed, and within the next ten years Jones became the most feared pirate in all the world, and I, his first mate. I took his surname as my own, wanting anything but association with the man I had once called my father."

They continued up the sloping hill, the ground slowly beginning to level out beneath their feet as they climbed until at last they reached the top of the rise. The entire island spread beneath them, the sea shimmering brightly on all sides. Though it was a sight to behold, he knew from experience that Neverland's was a dangerous beauty, and so the view held not half the allure for him as it did for Emma.

"We'll stop here," he stated, "rest awhile. Have some of our provisions. Here," he said as he tossed Emma a piece of salted beef and a slightly shriveled apple.

"Thanks," she replied, still somewhat sheepish from the remark she had made.

They sat in amicable silence as they ate, gazing around at the island beneath them. The tension slowly began to melt away, and before long, it was as if their confrontation had never occurred. He looked over at her, quietly admiring her as she sat with her eyes closed, her body leaning back on the palms of her hands with her face tilted up towards the sun. Her eyes were closed, relishing the warmth that the sun had to offer. Her blonde tresses were blowing in the light cool breeze, the strands glinting gold in the bright afternoon sun.

"How did you become Captain?" she questioned, startling him and causing a blush to creep up the sides of his neck. His eyes had been traveling slightly downward, and he thought for a moment that he had been caught. His eyes flicked back to her own, only to find them still closed. Letting out a quick sigh of relief, he gathered his thoughts and prepared to tell the tale.

"Has anyone ever told you that you ask an awful lot of questions, love?" he said with a chuckle.

"I'm the sheriff," she huffed, opening one eye to peer at him, "It's my job to ask questions."

Killian laughed aloud, "Well then, you do your job well." He glanced at her once more, sighing again for good measure before relenting. "Very well lass, though it's not a gentle tale. Though neither have any been that I've told you so far today." He paused, wondering if he had already revealed too much of himself to her today. He shrugged inwardly, knowing that he had already consented to tell her, and that he would keep his word to do so.

He began, choosing his words carefully for effect, "It was a dark and stormy night, and th-" he broke off sharply at the light giggle that escaped from the woman next to him. "What the bloody hell's so funny?" he asked, annoyed.

"Nothing," she insisted, "Please, continue."

After muttering some incoherent curses under his breath, he continued.

"The men were restless. There had been talk, mostly whispers of a mutiny against the Captain. Of course, being first mate, I reported this to him the moment I had heard. Jones didn't seem to make much of the rumors, believing them to be nothing but the disgruntled mutterings of men who were lesser than him. What he failed to understand, however, was that even the weakest of men, in numbers, can overthrow even the strongest of leaders.

"For many weeks the whispers fermented, turning even some of his staunchest supporters into his most vehement adversaries. So it was that on this dark and stormy night that the majority of the crew dragged him out of his cabin, slit his throat, and threw Jones into the deep.

"There were two factions on the Roger, those who supported my traditional succession as first mate to the post of Captain, and those who supported Garath, one of the strongest men aboard the ship, and the one who had begun the spread of discontent."

He stopped a moment, seeing the inky black night and the pelting rain before him once more. Every instant of that night was branded upon his mind, each detail as clear as it had been more than three hundred years ago.

"There was no clear majority. The men were cleanly divided, and it was decided that the only way to settle the matter was a fight to the death. It was the last thing I wanted. If I lost, I lost my life, and if I won...if I won my prize was to bear a burden that few men are ever ready for. It was a prize that I never actively sought, that I had never lobbied for. Of course, being first mate made it likely that I would someday be Captain, and yet I had always thought that when that moment actually came, that I would be ready to _want_ that burden. And yet here I was, not even ready to want it let alone to have it. But I knew that I could not...that I _would_ not let Garath have the Roger. Not after what he had done. Mutiny is the blackest of crimes that a pirate can commit, Emma, and there is no coming back from a betrayal of that magnitude."

They were both silent, both sitting and wondering about his past. Questions stirred in her mind, and painful memories stirred in his. Finally, her steady voice broke his reverie.

"But, I don't understand..._why_ didn't you want to be Captain?"

He studied her for a moment, waiting for her to puzzle through the question she had posed him. To him, the answer seemed so obvious, especially considering her own past. After some time he lowered his eyes, almost disappointed that she hadn't recognized the simple truth of the answer.

"To have that great of a responsibility thrust upon you so suddenly, to have dozens of men's lives that you are held accountable for, to be the one person they look to for orders, the one they expect to guide them and to never lead them astray, to be expected to provide deliverance from any danger big or small... can you understand my reluctance now Emma Swan?"

He raised his eyes to meet her own, and saw her looking at him through new eyes. There was relief there, he thought. Relief that surely mirrored his own when he had first heard from Cora's lips that story of how she was "The Savior" of her people. He knew then that he had found a person who could understand his awesome burden, and now she knew it too.

"Yes," she confessed, "I understand."

He nodded his head and gave her a sad smile before continuing. "And so, we fought. It was a long and bitter battle. We were both good swordsmen. He was, as I said, the strongest man on the crew. But I was faster. He relied on brute force, attempting to cut me clean through and make a theatrical show of it all. But I waited, knowing that he would tire quickly with this style of fighting. Sure as I am standing here he slowed down just enough for me to slip past his guard and land the final blow. I stood over him, watching him sputter for breath, blood trickling from his mouth and mixing with the rain to run in rivers down his neck. I watched the light fade from his eyes. I watched him die, cold, and alone, for now that he had lost my claim was cemented, and any men who now opposed me would share his fate.

"When his breathing finally stopped, I felt as though a part of me had died with him. And it had. Any pretentions to innocence that I had once had were now but distant memories. Killian Jones as I had known him was gone...a Captain that I didn't recognize now stood in his place.

"The men that had backed me in the fight tossed the corpse of Garath overboard, and I ordered those who had supported him to be brought down to the brig. We sailed into port the next day, and those sailors were released from my service. It pained me greatly to do it, for I was and always have been close to each of my men. While Jones always thought that fear was best tool of leadership, I've never found it to be entirely true. My men have always respected me, for I have shown them respect in return. I have only ever used fear as a tool when necessary, enough to let any and all men know that if they cross me, they will find themselves the worse for it. But I have never, even in my darkest days, been unnecessarily cruel, Emma."

He glanced at her once more, looking for her reaction to his story. She had been staring ahead to the edge of the horizon, as lost in the story as he was, but turned to face him as he said her name. Her eyes were a sea of confusion, swirling with things that she would not yet say. Though he usually could read her as easily as a book, he could not decipher exactly what she was thinking. Whether she was disgusted, amazed, or intrigued he could not tell; perhaps she was each in equal turns. But the one unmistakable emotion that was written clearly in her eyes was respect, born of her newfound knowledge of his past self. She understood him more clearly now, for better or for worse.

He stood abruptly, desiring nothing more than to be free of the memories that now haunted him once more. "Come," he sighed, offering her his hand, "we've lingered long enough. There's only a few more hours of daylight left and it wouldn't do to waste them."

Once she was on her feet he slipped his hand from hers and turned to walk away. He could not yet tell if he regretted sharing his tale, but wasn't quite ready to face the consequences of it's telling just yet. He made it several paces before she stopped him with a single word.

"Hook."

He turned to face her, bracing himself for whatever she might choose to say. He gazed into her eyes, trying unsuccessfully to read them once more. She opened her mouth to speak, but changed her mind at the last moment as if sensing his hesitance to discuss his past further. Instead, she asked, "Where are we going?"

A smile flitted across his features, a silent thanks to her for understanding. "I'm not sure, love, but this direction seems as good a place as any to start."


End file.
